


Saturday. Sleep.

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-31
Updated: 2001-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A Leedsville snippet set in 2007.





	Saturday. Sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Saturday. Sleep. by Skinner Box

Saturday. Sleep.  
by Skinner Box  
Email:   
Rating: NC-17 (eek!)  
Pairing: Spender/Krycek  
Spoilers/Timeline: No real spoilers.   
Summary: A Leedsville snippet set in 2007.  
Disclaimer: The X-files and these characters belong to Chris Carter and Fox Broadcasting. I play with them out of love and for no profit.  
Note: Thank you to Starfish and Wildy for beta. And, as always, thank you to Meir.  
Archive: please ask first  
Warning: Having written PG-13 stories about sex, have now produced an NC-17 about other stuff.

* * *

Saturday. Sleep.  
by Skinner Box

Alex sets the armload of newspapers on the bed and eases himself down after it, the better not to wake the sleeping librarian. Jeff's on top of the coverlet, but he's pulled the pillows out and is currently hogging both of them. Alex gives the likelier one a tug, and Jeff smiles a little sleep smile and rolls away, freeing it.

His back against the pillow-padded headboard, Alex opens the top paper on the stack. The Globe and Mail, as it happens.

Alex trained himself well. He can skim through a Sunday edition in any of half a dozen languages, picking out and uploading the relevant bits of information in thirty minutes flat. It's an act of will to slow himself down, paddle through the articles like a kid in a wading pool. Belgium is emerging as an unexpected contender in the World Cup. A retrospective on Bauhaus design is touring North American museums. Reading for interest, for Godssakes.

Beside him, Jeff sighs and flops onto his back again. Lazy Saturday afternoon. They had sex this morning, and Jeff hurt him a little. Again. Alex still can't quite believe he himself came through everything clean. Clean in his blood, at least. Five years of condoms- it's no wonder Jeff's instincts for teeth and rough sucking are dying hard.

God. Retired. Out of the game. Alex's mind is still on sex, flashes him back a few days. Their first since Alex's final test came back clean. Jeff's sweet slow tongue dragging up the bare shaft of his cock for the first time. Hot welcoming wetness as Jeffrey took him in, in, in. And then backed off, raised his head. Smiled up the length of Alex's torso at him.

"Sashele, you taste so good."

Alex puts down the paper. Refolds it into some semblance of order and pushes it and its mates down the bed and away. His whole body catches him up in a long stretch as he's lying down. 

Jeff's eyes are jerking behind the closed lids. Dreamland. He has such small pores, nearly invisible except across his cheeks. They fade out to smoothness again just above the line of Saturday stubble.

Alex scoots down and fits himself into the nook between arm and shoulder, stump nestled in the hollow of Jeff's armpit. Jeff gives a little sigh as Alex settles, arm and one leg slung over the still greyhound-slim body. Jeff's warm, cotton-covered chest brushes against his cheek with the rise and fall of each breath, lulling Alex to sleep.

The End

  
Archived: August 27, 2001 


End file.
